


Lighting the Iron Wick

by SilverScaler3000



Category: RWBY
Genre: Anger, Angst, Awkward Romance, Breaking and Entering, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual smut/sex, Evil re-programmed Penny, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Horny Torchwick, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurities, Jacques Schnee is a heartless bastard, Kidnapping, M/M, Masquerade Ball, More Fluff, Phantom pain, Pyrrha and Penny lived, Soulmates, Swearing, The F word (a lot), This fic might very well be the end of me…, Tracking Chip, Trust Issues, Unsure Ironwood, Vytal festival was cancled, Winter Maiden, Yes the title is a joke on the ship name leave me alone, house arrest, past trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-24 00:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13799754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverScaler3000/pseuds/SilverScaler3000
Summary: James Ironwood, as in general, James frick’n Ironwood, was his soulmate!?Roman didn't know if he wanted to laugh or scream.When Roman Torchwick is taken into custody after the whole train fiasco, he and James Ironwood realize they're soulmates. After discussing it with the council, James is granted permission - or rather told - to bring Roman to his home in the hopes of getting information on his employer, or at the very least change the master criminal for the better. Roman, while intrigue and attracted to the man, has no intention of yielding. Stuck together for months on end, neither of them is sure just who will crack under the - totally not sexual - tension first.But when a familiar threat rises up in Atlas and Penny’s life is in danger, can they both put their differences aside to fight off a common enemy? And can they maybe, just maybe…Find love?





	1. You've gotta be kidding me

**Author's Note:**

> Get this is an unusual pairing, but I've written over sixty pages for this fic now, so there is NO way in heaven or hell that I'm NOT posting it. Kudos me if you like it, comment if you love it. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Roman Torchwick was having a bad hair day. Oh, and a bad shoulder day, arm day, back day, pretty much everything right down to the tips of his toes, bad day. And it was only going to get worse.  

Leaning his head back he tried to relieve some of the tension in his neck, but it was bloody useless. Being cuffed down to a chair had never been the most comfortable position in the world, and having been stuck in said position - _for five hours,_ he might add - had left his body screaming for comfort, or at the very least the ability to stretch his arms above his head. If only they hadn’t needed to start the train early, he wouldn’t be here right now…  

Roman growled, remembering Emerald and Mercury’s smug looks as they handed him over to those Atlesian soldiers. Sure it had been their job to do it, all part of their  _oh so secret plan_ , but that hadn’t made the situation any less infuriating. God's above, it took every ounce of self will he had not to just kill those two little street rats right then and there. But Cinder... 

Well, he didn’t really have to imagine how badly she would have reacted.

Roman had been warned by her beforehand, of course, that they needed him to get captured in order to draw  _even more_ attention away from her and the White Fang. He had been making arrangements, preparing to blackmail the right people to break him out if things went to hell, and had even been trying to talk Cinder out of it; to convince her that there were other ways for him to gain control of the airship when she attacked Beacon other than him staying in a dirty prison cell for a couple of months. But because of _Red_ and her band of bloody do-gooders, he was ahead of schedule and was now stuck in a barely lit interrogation room, on one of the most secure airships in the world, and Roman could honestly say he was  _not_ enjoying it.

Once again he looked lazily around the room, wrinkling his nose in disgust. It was a pretty standard interrogation room, cramped and dirty with no visible exits save for the door behind him. The chair he sat in was next to a small table, where his interrogator would sit, _once they showed up,_ that is. 

Honestly what the Grimm was taking so long?

Roman scowled, deciding he’d had enough playing these damn Atlas ass hat’s waiting game. “Hell- _O_ -o?” he called out, listening as the sound echoed around him.

There may not have been anyone currently in the room with him, but Roman knew there’d be hidden cameras watching his every move. In fact, he was almost positive there was one on the glass of water on the table.  

 _What’s the point of it anyway?_ he thought. _My hands are **l**_ ** _iterally_** _tied, it’s not like I can drink it._

 **** After waiting a few minutes and nothing happened, Roman growled, really starting to get pissed off at all the waiting these people were making him endure. “Come  _on_ , I know someone’s listening!” he shouted. “This is getting ridiculous.”

Suddenly the door slammed open behind him, making Roman jump in surprise.

“What the fu-”

“Impatient, aren’t we Torchwick?” a gruff voice cut him off, their footsteps echoing behind Roman as they started approaching him.

Roman smiled, glad somebody was finally here to alleviate the boredom. “Not really, no,” he said, trying to crane his neck around so he could see who he was talking to. “Considering the fact I’ve been sitting here for five hours, I think I’ve been _very_ patient.”

The footsteps stopped abruptly. “How could you tell? There isn’t a clock in here.”

Roman smirked. “Don’t need one,” he said, shrugging to the best of his abilities under his restraints. He hissed as the cuffs bit into his wrists, and he sagged back down, groaning in annoyance. “Can you please explain to me why I’m wrapped tighter than a turkey dinner?” he asked as the person resumed walking towards him, making Roman winced at just how loud their footsteps were; reverberating erratically in the small room. “I mean, I’m glad my reputation precedes me enough to make you people nervous, but seriously? Isn’t this a _bit_ much?”

The person stopped right behind him, and Roman bit his cheek as he tried not to squirm under the unknown persons gaze.

“I don’t think so, no.” the person finally said, stepping in front of Roman, looking down at him. “After all, it’s not that often I have the head crime lord of Vale in one of my facilities.”

Roman blinked, then frowned angrily as he recognized the man. It was none other than James Ironwood, General of the Atlas military, headmaster to one of the four huntsman academies, and one the biggest pains in Roman’s ass. While they had never officially met, Roman had had to deal with enough of Ironwood’s underlings in the past to hate him with a fiery passion. They both glared silently at one another, sizing each other up before Roman opened his mouth again.

“ _Well_ well, if it isn’t the big man himself, come to see little old me,” he said, leaning back in what he hoped looked like a casual manner. It was hard with the restraints, but he at least managed to get into a somewhat comfortable position as he grinned malevolently up at the man. “I gotta say, _general_ ,” he continued, smirking as Ironwoods face hardened. “Never thought I’d get the chance to see you this close, and now that I am… I’m not impressed.” he sneered, tsking disapprovingly.

In truth this was a lie, the general both impressed and intrigued him a great deal, but Roman certainly wasn’t going to admit this. He also wasn’t going to indulge himself with the unfair fact that Ironwood was incredibly attractive. Yep, definitely going to ignore that thought.

“I’m not aiming to please you, Torchwick.” Ironwood stated gruffly, turning around and heading to another chair at the other side of the table.

“I was under the impression you’re not looking to please anyone, but please, continue,” Roman replied snarkily.

Ironwood turned and gave him a glare that was anything short of terrifying, before sitting himself in the chair. “Be that as it may, I’d like to remind you of the position you’re in. With all the crimes you’ve committed, you’re lucky I don’t just kill you outright for your insults.”

“You have me shaking in my boots,” Roman deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “Please general, cut the threats and get to the point. It’s obvious you want something if you dragged me in here.”

“Would you prefer your cell?” Ironwood asked flatly.

Roman shuddered. “You mean those little white boxes you have the audacity to call a room? No thank you.”

Ironwood snorted, a surprisingly human reaction in Romans opinion, and leaned forward, placing his hands in front of him on the table. “I’m sure you already know what I’m about to ask you.”

“Not really, no,” Roman said casually. “I’d have thought you were here to ask for my cell number, but seeing as how you didn’t bring me any flowers I’m guessing you want something else.”

Ironwood started at that, then shook his head in disbelief. “Of all the things I was expecting today, that wasn’t even close.”

“I have a specialty for providing the unexpected, general,” Roman said, smirking. “Can I go home now? I’ll say sorry and everything,” he cooed in a fake apologetic tone, batting his eyelashes.

Ironwood frowned deeper and raised an eyebrow, which looked bizarre in Romans opinion because of the third metal one he had. What was up with that anyway?

“Let’s cut the small talk and move on to why you’re here,” Ironwood said.

“An excellent point,” Roman exclaimed exaggeratedly, “‘Cause you know, I didn’t realize being in a horrific train accident counted as a crime, general.”

Ironwood scowled. “Do I look like an idiot to you Torchwick?” he asked coldly.

“I have the most bizarre feeling you want me to say no.”

“I know the train wasn’t all you,” Ironwood began, “Or even just the White Fang. You’ve clearly been working for someone-”

“Really?” Roma interrupted, smirking.

“ _Yes._ ” Ironwood snapped, standing up. “You’ve never behaved this way in the past, you’re clearly covering someone else's tracks.”

For a moment Roman felt a brief burn flare up his left side at the general's words, but he ignored it in favor of glaring at the man. “I think you’re mistaken, general,” he said after a moment. “This is _my_ city, and I work for no one.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth, and Roman grit his teeth to keep from grimacing at the memory of Cinder’s eyes glowing as she threatened him, threatened Neo…

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Ironwood stated, pulling Roman out of his thoughts. “Our intelligence clearly states-”

“I'm sorry you people _actually_ have that?” Roman said with mock surprise. “And here I thought you were all a bunch of idiots. I guess the old saying is true, you learn something new every day.”

Ironwood walked back around the table, stopping an inch from Roman. He glared down at the criminal, who thought it was hilarious Ironwood even thought that could scare him.

"You are by far the most infuriating person I've ever encountered,” Ironwood growled

"Right, cause you've been  _so_ cordial yourself," Torchwick shot back, scowling.

At that Ironwood slammed his fist on the table, causing Roman to jump slightly. “People nearly died, Torchwick,” he shouted. “Because of you, dozens of citizens just lost their homes and shops, if not their loved ones. What you’ve done, it’s enough to put you on death row!”

Roman held stock still, forcing the brief feelings of surprise and fear that had risen up back down in favor of keeping his face calm and collected. If he wanted to survive these next couple of months he had to appear uncaring. And Roman was an expert at that. “Eh, isn’t Goodwitch already doing clean up?” he asked nonchalantly, smiling at Ironwood as if they were merely having a friendly conversation. “And it’s like you said,” he continued, “People  _nearly_ died. I don’t have any blood on my hands.” Roman twisted his smile into something nasty, grinning at Ironwood evilly. “Unlike you, _Tin Man_.”

The blow had the intended effect, and Ironwoods hard face was shattered, shock and pain flooding his features. The coldness in his eyes disappeared, and a deep sorrow took over, leaving Ironwood vulnerable before Roman; who watched the change with great interest, gauging just how normal the man looked when he wasn’t behaving like a cold-hearted soldier.

Roman chuckled. “See?” he said, “Your expression says it all, Ironwood. You’re just like the rest of us, and in the end, just like me. Hard when we have to be, but still just men. Although, you’re not quite a man anymore, are you?” he taunted, his gaze flickering to the glove that covered Ironwood’s prosthetic hand.

Faster than Roman could even register it, Ironwood had lifted him up by his jacket, chair and all. Roman faltered, staring aghast at Ironwood. Roman didn’t think he had upset the man that much, but clearly the had because the general looked just about ready to kill him.

“You bastard,” Ironwood hissed in his face, gripping Roman jacket harder.

“Woah, general,” Roman said, grinning even though he was screaming on the inside. “Did I push a button there? Sorry, that happens sometimes. I have an unfortunate habit of pointing out truths people just don’t want to hear-”

Suddenly he stopped, a strange feeling building in his chest. It was hot and cold all at once, making him shudder from the strangeness of it. It didn’t feel uncomfortable per-se. In fact, Roman couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Was it fear? Sadness?

_Love?_

Suddenly without warning his aura glowed brightly along his body, blinding him. Roman shouted in alarm, and Ironwood dropped him. Roman hit the ground hard and was about to snap at him, when he noticed Ironwood’s aura had begun glowing too. Romans mind raced, trying desperately to figure out what the hell was going on, and after a moment his thoughts came to a screeching halt, settling on the one and only possible reason this could be happening.

 _No,_  he thought, _It can’t be, it just can’t!_

But it was. Roman Torchwick, the master criminal of Vale, was soulmates with James Ironwood, general of Atlas.

After a minute they both stopped glowing, and they stared at each other in disbelief, mouths open comically wide as they gaped at one another. Then Roman banged his head against the table, cursing every deity he could think of under his breath. “ _Shit shit shit shit_ ** _shit_** _!_ ” he hissed, digging his hands into the cuffs to keep from screaming.

Placing a hand on the table to steady himself, Ironwood groaned loudly, opening his mouth to voice both their thoughts in one, simple, sentence.

 _“_ You've gotta be fucking kidding me. _”_


	2. The Decision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...hi. 
> 
> So, new chapter. 
> 
> To be honest, I don't know WHAT I was thinking when I wrote this, and I don't really know anymore if the plot even makes sense (I hate story's with big plot holes and/or are completely unbelievable).  
> But you know what? It's Fanfiction, my grammar is f*cking fantastic - in my opinion - and I poured my heart and soul into this, so I'm just going to go with it. I think there are at least some parts you'll enjoy, and hopefully, as I work towards finishing this, I'll fall back in love with it too. 
> 
> Have fun!

Winter stood outside general Ironwood’s door, frowning uncertainly.

That in itself had her stomach twisting in knots, because Winter was  _never_ unsure about what she should do when it came to a direct order the general had given her. She always followed through, never second-guessed herself or the general when she was on a mission or even a simple task he had given her. And yet here she was, just standing outside his office on the Atlas militaries airship, _fidgeting_.

Winter sighed tiredly, forcing herself to hold still as she contemplated what she should do. General Ironwood had told her to inform him when the council of Vale and the few members of the Atlas council who were aboard had gathered, and when the other two councils and those from the Atlas council who were still in Atlas were ready to communicate over the emergency scroll channel. Everyone was ready and waiting for the general, so now her only task was letting him know. But Winter could hear him yelling at someone, and she found herself at a loss for what she should do. She winced at an especially enraged shout, and she bit her bottom lip, feeling like a coward. Since the general was alone in the room, Winter could only assume that he was talking to someone through a scroll, and it didn’t exactly sound… pleasant.

His volume rose and fell as he shouted, and Winter winced in sympathy for whoever was on the other line. General Ironwood had a bit of a temper, and while she herself had never been on the receiving end of it, she had witnessed it often enough. Winter’s hand was still raised, ready to knock on the wooden door, but with every enraged curse she heard, she felt her confidence slipping. She dropped her hand to her side with a frustrated sigh, staring forward unseeingly.

It had been over an hour since he had come rushing out of the interrogation room, looking so distraught that for a brief moment she had felt frightened. General Ironwood was everything she aspired to be, calm, collected, and Gods praise him he knew how to handle that incompetent drunk Qrow Branwen. Seeing his composure slip completely like that had terrified her. He had recovered quickly though, ordering Winter to place Roman Torchwick in solitary confinement. No one was to see the criminal, the sound on the security footage was to be cut off, and under no circumstances was anyone allowed to talk to the man.

_Anyone that disobeys will be punished by me **personally**._

The general rarely made threats like that, meaning that whatever was going on, not only had it upset him, but it probably held great weight over the safety of not only just the kingdom of Vale, but possibly all of Remnant.  _Especially_ given that all of the four councils had been alerted to whatever the situation was.

Suddenly she became aware of the fact that the general had ceased his yelling, and Winter forced herself to raise her hand up and knock three times sharply.

“One moment!” the general's muffled voice came through the door.

Winter sighed, rubbing her temples.  _Just what in the four kingdoms was going on!?_

“Salutations Ms. Schnee!” a chipper voice came from behind, startling her.

She turned around quickly, her apprehensiveness making her suspicious, but she smiled as she saw who it was. “Hello Penny,” she greeted.

The android in question smiled happily at her, before glancing at the door to the general's office. “I had wanted to speak with Mr. Ironwood, is he available?” she asked politely.

Winter bit her bottom lip. “I’m afraid not,” she said, “A dire situation has arisen, and it requires all of his attention.”

Penny nodded stoically, already all too aware how important Mr. Ironwood’s job was. She gave Winter a quizzical look, studying her face carefully. “Is something bothering you, Miss Schnee?”

Winter blinked, startled, both of her eyebrows raising practically up to her hairline. “Does it looked like something’s bothering me?” she asked, feeling both surprised and a little touched that Penny had noticed. “I’m fine,” she said, trying to give her a reassuring smile.

Penny raised an eyebrow at her - where she learned to do that Winter would never know. “With all due respect Ms. Schnee, I believe you’re lying.”

She said it simply, and Winter sighed, shaking her head in both defeat and amusement. “You’re very observant Penny, although I think it would be wise for you to work on your tact.”

Penny giggled. After a minute though she frowned again, and Winter couldn’t help but think it was odd to see that expression on her face. Penny was usually so cheerful, it was strange to see her as anything but. “Please, Miss Schnee- Winter,” she said, and Winter felt herself startle at Penny’s use of her first name, “What’s bothering you so much? Are you not going to be able to visit with your sister like you had been hoping?”

Winter was shocked by the fact Penny had called her by her first name, but after a moment she shook it off, sighing internally as she realized that her plans to see Weiss might very well no longer be an option.

“Possibly,” she said, trying and failing to keep a note of sadness from her voice. Winter had, in fact, wanted desperately to speak with her little sister in person for a long time now. She was the only member of their family that had supported her decision to leave their father’s dust company to work with General Ironwood. Winter wanted to catch up with her, and, more importantly, to meet her soulmate. She was curious to meet the girl, Ruby Rose; a young woman who had gained entrance into Beacon two years earlier than the rest of her peers after confronting Roman Torchwick during a dust heist. And if Winter had read the reports correctly, it was in fact due to Weiss’s teammate's efforts that general Ironwood’s men were able to apprehend the criminal at all.

Speaking of the general-

The door opened suddenly, and Winter nearly jumped back in surprise as the General quietly exited his office. He still looked angry, but when he caught sight of Penny his features softened. “Hello Penny,” he greeted.

Penny quickly gave the general a salute, following Winter’s lead. “Salutations Mr. Ironwood!” she said.

Winter smiled softly. As the general turned his attention to her, however, she settled her face back to its customary sternness. “The council is ready for you sir,” she told him.

The general’s demeanor instantly went cold. “Good,” he said, even though it looked as if he didn’t really mean it. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

 

_~oOo~_

 

James sighed quietly to himself as he stood outside the door that led into the conference chamber, letting his mask falter for a brief moment. He had informed the councils - and Ozpin, of course - discretely of what had transpired between him and Roman Torchwick, but had kept it from anyone else. For now, no one besides the people he had told knew about his… _predicament._

Not even Winter.

They had all been shocked, to say the least, and even Ozpin had seemed surprised. One of the heads of Vacuo’s councils had even gone as far as to demand an explanation, which was absolutely infuriating, to say the least. What part of the most wanted man in Vale was his soulmate, his ‘other half’, did the woman not understand!? It wasn’t as if he had asked for this or wanted to give the man a pardon. He was a criminal for the God's sakes. Soulmarkings be damned, James wasn’t just going to ignore that fact. 

Sighing again, James straightened himself and entered the room.

 

Things were going poorly, to say the least.

The room had been in utter chaos when he had first stepped in, and his presence only seemed to make the situation worse. Everyone was shouting; nothing was being accomplished. Grimm had only just plagued the city, all of these negative emotions weren’t going to help anyone. Ozpin was the only person staying calm and acting rationally. He only spoke when spoken to, and when he did add his voice to the conversation it was quiet; rational. They sat at opposite sides of the large table, Vale’s council and the few members of Atlas’s council besides himself. Large projections, the only light source in the dim room, showed the faces of members from the other two councils.

“We need to know why he’s aligned himself with the White Fang,” one person insisted. “It doesn’t make any sense! What does he have to gain from it?”

“That is inconsequential,” another shouted. “The damage has already been done. Now, we must ensure it doesn’t happen again.”

“ _How!?_ ” the first person demanded. “We’re not even positive that Roman Torchwick is truly the man behind all of this. What if he’s just a scapegoat to lead us off course?”

“Then we’ll force him to tell us who is behind all of this.”

“But what if-”

Having had enough, James stood up abruptly. Everyone fell silent as he addressed the whole room, catching each person's eyes as he spoke. “My fellow councilors,” he began, “You know as well as I do that Roman Torchwick is a notoriously proud man, one who doesn't break easily. Our intel and experiences with him have shown that he can't be blackmailed or threatened into to giving us the information we need. Even now, at his weakest and most vulnerable, he hasn't backed down from his claims of being the one behind the attacks.”

He saw Ozpin staring at him out of the corner of his eye. They shared a knowing look before quickly turning their attention back to the room. They had both long suspected that  ** _she_** might have had her fingers in some of the going on’s of Vale’s recent crime activity, but neither of them was positive. Qrow might know. Despite his poor habits he really was an excellent spy. But he had gone dark a short while ago, which James could tell troubled Ozpin to no end.

“Then what would  _you_ suggest we do, Ironwood?” one of the councilmen demanded. “The fact that Torchwick is your _soulmate_ -”

James bristled at how disgusted the man sounded.

“- doesn’t change the fact that people have suffered at his hands. What would you suggest we do to get the information we need? If not through intense interrogation and… _other_ , persuasive methods.”

The word torture hung loosely in the air, and James stomach clenched at the thought. He frowned. Since when had he become so concerned for Torchwick’s safety? Is this what having a soulmate did to you, made one think irrationally and illogically?

“If I may, councilmen,” Ozpin spoke calmly, drawing everyone's attention to him, “I believe there may be an alterior way for us to persuade Mr. Torchwick into giving us the information we need.”

“And what might that be Ozpin?” a different council member asked him.

Everyone in the room looked at Ozpin expectantly, and James leaned forward, eager to hear what the headmaster was about to suggest. Knowing Ozpin it would be a logical, well thought out idea he could easily get behind-

“It is in my opinion, that the best course of action is to have Roman Torchwick move into the general's apartment in Atlas.”

A collection of gasps echoed around the room, and James choked on the breath he was taking. Ozpin was suggesting that they… _what!?_

He gave the headmaster an incredulous look, a demand for an explanation written in every line in his face. Ozpin didn’t react beyond simply sipping his coffee, and James swore as the man met his shocked stare there was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

_What the-_

 

“ **_\- Grimm Ozpin!?_ ** ”

“James, you need to calm down,” Ozpin said firmly, taking  _yet another_ sip from his coffee mug.

“Calm down?” James spat, “You just suggested in front of the four councils that I should bring a criminal into my home to live with me!” he shouted, clutching Ozpin’s desk with both hands as he glared at the headmaster. Hearing the wood begin to crack under his prosthetic hand he removed it immediately but didn’t bother apologizing for it.

After the initial shock of what Ozpin had said worn off, James had felt his horrification rising as many of the councilmen and women slowly began to agree with the headmaster, even inputting reasons as to why this would be a good plan. Keeping himself composed, he had asked Ozpin if he would speak in private with him, and now here they were, in the headmaster's office, and James felt no qualms about letting the man know just how _angry_ he was. 

“Is there a problem with that?” Ozpin questioned innocently, apparently deciding to ignore the new hand shaped dent in his desk. “You do realize it’s normal for soulmates to live together?” he asked, a smile quirking at the corners of his mouth.

James growled. “Don’t treat this as a joke Ozpin,” he said angrily. “I have served you loyally for years. How could you do this to me?” he demanded, cursing the fact his voice sounded pained at the end.

Ozpin’s smile dropped, and he sighed, setting his mug down and folding his hands together atop his desk. He stared at James, a patient air so prominent around the headmaster that James felt like punching him.

“James,” Ozpin said softly, “I did this _for_ _you_.”

James scoffed, crossing his arms. “ _For_ _me_ ,” he said. “How is shoving a strange man into my home doing me any favors Ozpin?” he asked.  

Not looking at James, Ozpin took off his glasses and cleaned imaginary dirt off of them. “How many soulmates do you suppose I’ve had in my countless regenerations?” he asked, placing them back on his nose.

James blinked. He had always wondered if Ozpin had multiple soulmates throughout the centuries. “Over a hundred?” he guessed.

“ ** _One_** ,” Ozpin said flatly, his tone going uncharacteristically bitter. “I had one, and I threw my chances with them away. I’ve regretted it for centuries James, regretted not even trying to get to know them, regretted that my aura has cursed others so that they couldn't have a soulmate.”

“What do you mean?” James asked.

Ozpin sat back down, staring into the reflecting glow of his eyes in his coffee. “When my soul becomes completely merged with another's, the soulmate they had been destined for is no longer compatible for them,” he said. Ozpin looked up at James, his eyes unseeing. “It’s one of the many ways the Gods have chosen to punish me for failing to defeat Salem.”

“I, I had no idea,” James murmured softly.

Ozpin chuckled humorlessly. “Well, it’s not as if I’ve been very open about that part of my past,” he admitted. “Now, while I am sorry for outing you the way I did in front of the council's, I do honestly believe this is for the best.”

"Considering the fact the councils are more likely than not going push for this, I don't have much of a choice, do I?" he asked, bitterly.

"There's always a choice,” Ozpin replied solemnly, “The question is, which one can you live with?"

James groaned internally at Ozpin’s logic, rubbing his temples. They settled into a quiet silence, both of them thinking. After a moment James shook his head, trying to clear it. "Why do I feel like I'm choosing between two different poisons to drink from?" he asked.

“Because this is a huge decision on your part, and either choice you make could have great consequences,” Ozpin said.

James turned away from him, crossing his arms as he stared down at Beacon academies courtyard from one of the windows. He watched as crews of people took down Vytal festival tournament decorations, feeling a pang of sympathy to the students who had been looking forward to it.

“It really may not be any skin off your nose if you decide you don’t want to even acknowledge the fact Roman Torchwick is your soulmate,” Ozpin continued, drawing James’ attention back to him. “However,” he said, “I truly believe that if you don’t give this a try James, you will regret it for the rest of your life.” Ozpin paused for a moment, letting his words sink in.

"Besides,” he said brightly, his smile somehow more ominous than reassuring “It's not always the most conventional soulmates that are the happiest.” Realizing that James didn't find that find that thought very comforting, Ozpin placed a hand on his shoulder, his gaze softer. “Everything will be fine James,” he said comfortingly.

James sighed. "I hope you're right, Ozpin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was it good? Comment and Kudos PLEASE!!!!!!!!!


	3. Sedation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost named this chapter: Why am I so obsessed with this fic I'm not even sure that I even like it anymore
> 
> Anyvays hey everyone! Sorry, this chapter took so long, I suck. I openly admit that. Hope you enjoy!!!

James shook his head, wondering not for the first time just  _what_ had possessed him into listening to Ozpin. This was a terrible idea, a fundamentally horrific idea, and yet, he had given it his consent. He had brought Roman Torchwick, one of the most dangerous criminal's Vale had ever seen, to his apartment in Atlas.

He sighed for the umpteenth time, staring down at the man in question. He was lying flat on his back on a bed in the guestroom that had been set up; out cold and completely oblivious to the world around him. As he studied him, James couldn’t help but think he looked rather peaceful, almost as if he were merely asleep.

He wasn’t.

Torchwick had been brought to James’ home in complete secrecy through means of the council, and in order to make the transition easier on all parties, the criminal had been kept under heavy sedation the entire time. Now that he was here, however, the drugs were unnecessary, and it would only be a matter of time before they wore off. James had noticed him begin to shift a few minutes ago, but there wasn’t any real threat of him waking anytime soon. It would be hours, a day at the longest until Roman Torchwick opened his eyes.

And then… James didn’t even know.

He scowled. This was insane. Gods knew that if it weren’t for the fact the council had insisted on this, that Ozpin, had insisted on this, that he would never have agreed to bring Torchwick into his home, much less his Kingdom. The man was a menace, a danger to society-

And somehow, his soulmate.

James had come to the conclusion that the Gods must hate him years ago, but this was absolutely ridiculous. He stared down uncomprehendingly at Torchwick, wondering why fate would have chosen this man for him. They were polar opposites; nothing alike. And yet…

 

“ _What in the hells do you want?_ ”

The day Torchwick had been first sedated for his transition to James’ home, James had personally come to oversee that nothing went wrong. He had brought with him two soldiers loyal to the council, and a medical paladin. He had entered the room first in order to appear less threatening. Clearly, it hadn’t helped, seeing as how the moment James had entered the cell Torchwick had lept to his feet, taking a defensive position on the far wall.

“What is this?” Torchwick had demanded, _hissed_ really, once he had caught sight of the people behind James.

James hadn’t bothered to give his soulmate an answer. “Roll up your sleeve,” he ordered.

Torchwick’s eyes had narrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “ _No._ ”

James had sighed and then given a small nod to his men. They had grabbed Torchwick and held him still as the paladin prepared the injected. Torchwick had been sneering at James, but that look had quickly left his face as the medic droid injected the needle. As the man's eyes began to droop, betrayal had been the primary emotion James had been able to read in his expression.

 

He frowned now at how guilty he had felt in that moment. James didn’t owe Torchwick anything, soulfactor be damned. It was after Torwick was deemed unconscious, however, that James received a shock.

 

When Torcwicks shirt had been removed in favor of replacing it with a cleaner one, a great deal of scarring had been revealed on his back and chest. James had barely contained a gasp at seeing them, another unwanted twinge of emotions his senses bombarded before he had managed to regain his composure. Even now though, he wondered how the man had obtained all of them, especially the extensive burns that laid across his upper torso and back. They looked fairly recent, which was confusing. There hadn’t been reports of any major fires in Vale, and none of the Huntsman and Huntresses who had encountered Torchwick in the recent months used weapons or semblances consisting of fire.

So that begged the question: what on Remnant could have happened to the man?

 

Whatever the case, they were nearly as extensive as James’, and that thought alone made him raise his gloved hand to his face, bending the prosthetic fingers one by one until his hand was clenched into a fist.

At that moment, James’ scroll buzzed, bringing him out of his thoughts. There was a new reminder from Winter, informing him once again that despite the fact he wouldn’t be leaving his home for a few days and therefore could ignore most of his normal duties, there were still documents that required his signature. He placed a flag on the notice and continued to scan through the other messages. His eyes lingered on an unread email from the council. It was most likely an apology for his current status, without being the least bit apologetic. After all, this  _was_ for the good of the four kingdoms, why would they apologize for practically forcing James into welcoming a stranger, thief, and for all he knew murderer, into his home?

He took a deep breath, choosing to focus on the actual reasoning behind the decision rather than the negatives - all of which directly affected himself and no one else. If James could somehow convince Tor-  _Roman_ , to tell him who exactly had hired him and what their plans were, they could prevent any more disasters from happening in Vale.

Of course, that all sounded all well and good in theory, but in actually James had no clue what to do with Torchwick. Once he woke up, there was no doubt the man would be furious, angry, hateful-

_I truly believe that if you don’t give this a try, James, you will regret it for the rest of your life._

...and then, of course, there were the reasons that Ozpin had given him.

It was laughable that anyone could think that he and Torchwick could grow closer. After all, they had absolutely nothing in common. James was a general, a teacher, a diplomat. Torchwick was nothing but a ruthless thug.

No, there was no way in Remnant that this could end well, _for either of them_.

But if it did...

James rubbed his eyes tiredly.  _What would be worse?_ he wondered tiredly,  _To have him reject me, or for him to love me?_

He left the room abruptly, walking the short distance down the hallway to his own bedroom. “What in the hells do you expect to come out of this, Ozpin?” he whispered harshly, pacing beside his own bed.

He resented the very principle of what having a soulmate meant; a perfect partner that would make life infinitely better. James had seen enough soulmate relationships fall through the floor, however, to know that it could happen. Just because people were soulmates didn’t guarantee you would love one another or have a successful relationship. There was also the fact that being close to someone, that  _love,_ created vulnerability, and that was a weakness James just couldn't afford.

“Tomorrow,” he thought out loud to himself. “I’ll figure all of this out tomorrow.”

He turned his head so he could look at the cracked moon, shining brightly outside his bedroom window. Atlas’s skies were clear tonight, and the celestial body shone ominously on the city. Whether it was a good sign or bad, James couldn’t tell. His thoughts turned back to the man lying unconscious a room over from him, and he sighed.

“I’ll find a way to make this work,” he murmured, closing his eyes with a sigh.

_I have to._

 

  _~oOo~_

 

 

When Roman opened his eyes, the very first thing he noticed was that one, he was incredibly drowsy, and two, that he couldn't see straight. After a few more moments he also noted that his head felt ridiculously heavy and that his mouth was as dry as sandpaper. All common side effects of aura depleting sleep drugs, which, his mind slowly remembered, was probably what had been forcibly administered to him by that Atlesian automaton. He shuddered at the memory, slowly sitting up. He rubbed his arm, tracing his thumb over the area where the machine had forcibly injected the needle, gritting his teeth.

“Bastards,” he spat.

Roman slowly looked over to his right, spying what looked to be a glass of water sitting on a side table next to the bed he was in. Reaching a tentative hand out he took it in his hand, sniffing it cautiously. Not detecting any drugs or anything else out of the ordinary, he took a tentative sip. Once he had confirmed it tasted fine, he quickly finished all of it, moaning gratefully as the cool liquid cleared most of the fog from his head. Once the glass was drained, Roman set it back down, and then glanced up, finally looking around himself.

What he saw immediately put him on edge.

The bed he was laying on was a king size, and it was covered in incredible thick sheets that were soft and comfortable. And looking across the room, Roman could see a very expensive looking black wood polished dresser and matching desk, along with a few others pieces of furniture, including a small armchair with a side table and a reading lamp. The floor was covered in thick rugs, and a large walk-in closet could be seen to his left. There were two other doors, and Roman assumed one of them led to a bathroom. The room itself wasn’t exactly small, but it was larger than most bedrooms - which this clearly was. Not a prison cell, but a _bedroom_.

All in all, it was very nice. Not his style personally, but nice all the same.

Roman shook his head, trying to figure out what was going on. This was definitely a huge leap from the prison block he had been in, and it had him feeling uneasy. Just how had he gone from being a prisoner in Ironwood’s most secure airship to  _this_?

"What in the hells?" he whispered.

Looking down at himself Roman frowned deeper, realizing as he pushed back the bed's comforter, that he was in nothing but... a hospital gown? And his boxers. “So those assholes took my clothes, really?"

Sure his signature coat had been dirty and covered in blood - one of the guards had punched him in the face - but seriously!?

Roman winced as he realized his scars were perfectly visible. They tattooed intricately across his chest; the gun and stab wounds that his aura hadn’t been able to heal properly. Those he supposed he didn’t mind being visible. After all, what did one really expect considering the profession he was in?

No, it was the burns scars he was worried about, shaped, if you happened to be studying them hard enough, like _handprints_. They covered his front and back, one of the more obvious ones on his left shoulder. They were red and ugly, and Roman groaned, wondering just who the hell had seen them and if they had thought hard enough about it to ask questions.

Sighing, he pulled his blankets up higher over his shoulders, noticing for the first time that they perfectly matched the color scheme of the room; the blue, grey and white walls and rugs reminding him of an Atlas-themed Casino he had robbed once-

Roman froze, the word Atlas echoing over and over again in his mind.

_Atlas_

Where the army that had been holding him was from.

_Atlas_

Where general James somehow-my-fucking-soulmate, Ironwood,  **lived**

Suddenly everything made some kind of weird, twisted sense, and all that Roman’s mind could come up with, was one. Huge. FUCK.

He threw back the covers and leaped out of the bed, ready to make a run for the nearest exit he could find. The suddenness of his movements caused all the blood rush from his head, however, as he quickly discovered once a wave of dizziness crashed over him. Before he could even register what was happening, Roman had crashed unceremoniously onto the floor. He groaned in annoyance, slowly understanding that the drug hadn’t quite worn off yet.

“God’s damn it,” he muttered, pushing himself off the rug with a growl. “I don’t have time for this!”

As Roman sat up he shivered, realizing that on top of everything else, he was freezing cold. That made sense, if he was,  _in fact_ , in Atlas, as he suspected. It wasn’t called ‘The Ice Kingdom’ just because of the general population's shitty attitudes.

With a hand on the bed to steady himself, he slowly stood up, then pulled one of the blankets off the mattress and wrapped it around his shoulders. “Right,” he said to himself, “Time to get the fuck out of here.”

At that moment a noise caught his attention, and Roman whipped his head around, very nearly screaming when he saw who it was.

_Oh, Gods have mercy on me_

General Ironwood was standing awkwardly in the doorway, staring at Roman uneasily. Roman tensed, ready to fight his way out tooth and nail if he had to, but the expected assault never came. Ironwood merely stood at the door, watching him carefully. After a minute passed both men began to shift uncomfortably, and it was Ironwood who finally broke the suffocatingly tense silence.

“Torchwick,” he said with a stiff nod, his hard expression not giving anything away.

“I-Ironwood,” Roman choked out, feeling more out of place and confused than he ever had in his life entire life. His heart was trying to hammer a new hole in his chest, and if it weren’t for the fact he had a hand on the bed to support himself, he would probably have fallen to his knees.

_Just what the hells is going on!?_

They stared at each other for a minute, Ironwood looking unsure and Roman - most likely - that he was going to scream.

He was trying not to let the lack of an escape route bother him, but it was. It most certainly was. Rule number one of being a thief, if there wasn't a foreseeable escape route, you moved on to another heist or hired someone stupid enough to do the job for you. Of course, there were times when 'fight or flight' had been reduced to just 'fight', but Roman usually had a third option, his silver tongue. It had been rendered useless at that moment, however, and Roman was at a loss to do.

He mentally slapped himself, muttering angry incoherences in his mind as he regained his composure. Straightening up, he boldly walked up to Ironwood; grateful that he didn’t fall over again. Once he was right in the man's face Roman scowled up at him, the height and obvious body build difference between the two of them be damned. Setting his face firm, Roman opened his mouth to ask the most logical question one could in his situation.

"Where the fuck am I?" he questioned bluntly.

Ironwood sighed, not answering him. Holding his arms out, which Roman could now see contained a set of clothes, Ironwood gestured with a slight nod from his head for Roman to take them.

Roman raised an eyebrow sharply. "And just what are  _those_ supposed to be?" he asked, eyeing the plain white pants and shirt with disgust.

The man frowned, looking down at the bundle in his hands, then back up at Roman. "Clothes," he said simply.

Roman let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. “I can see that. What I want to know is what in the hells you think I’m going to be doing with them. They’re ugly as fuck.”

Ironwood gave him a look that was both equal parts unimpressed and firm. "It's a shirt and a pair of pants, Torchwick, it doesn't matter what they look like as long as they fit. Now," he said, shoving them into Roman's arms. "Try them on."

Glancing down at them then back up to Ironwood, Roman couldn't help but blush slightly. "Ah, well I, uh-"

"What?" Ironwood growled, clearly starting to get annoyed.

Roman bristled, then purposefully drew out the question as long as he could. "Could I, well, I don't know, get some, that is could I have some..." Roman trailed off, making each word whinier than the last.

"Yes?"

" _Privacy?_ " Roman finally deadpanned. He smirked as Ironwood’s face flushed, and then he chuckled, giving the general a mischievous grin. “If you wanted to stay and watch,” he purred, “All you had to do is ask-”

“Just get dressed!” the general snapped, exiting the room and slamming the door hard behind him.

Roman cocked an eyebrow, not sure if he found how quickly the general had chosen to flee funny or insulting. “Well, someone woke up on the wrong side of their bed this morning,” he muttered after a moment, deciding to go with insulted.

Fuck his life was a mess.

He groaned, looking down once again at the clothes in his hands. “Better than nothing,” he finally sighed.

Walking over to the other door, he discovered that it was - surprise - a bathroom. The door wouldn’t lock, but hey! At least this meant he didn’t have to share with-

“My soulmate,” he said aloud. “Dust, that is going to take some getting used to.”

He shook his head as he slipped into the clothes the general had given him, still trying to process everything. James Ironwood, as in general, James fucking Ironwood, was his soulmate? Really? Roman didn't know if he wanted to laugh or scream. Probably the latter.

 _Wonder what Junior would make of all of this-_  

Roman slammed his head into the bathroom wall. Bad brain,  _very_ bad brain. Don’t try to guess what your ex-boyfriend would think of your soulmate, that was just begging a floodgate of horrible thoughts to burst open and give him an ulcer.

He sighed again. “Well,” he whispered, “Might as well not keep his general-ness waiting.”

He flicked the light switch before he even bothered to open the door; never one to feel afraid in the dark, and immediately paused. It should have been pitch black in the bathroom, and yet, a tiny glow of light shown, allowing Roman to stare in horror at himself in the mirror.

“Oh my Gods,” he whispered.

The aforementioned light was coming from his  _neck_. His fucking neck had a light shining out from under his skin; bluish colored, a little pulsing glow emanating in a circular shape, no larger than his thumbnail.

The anxiety and fear that had never quite left Roman suddenly rose with a vengeance, and he leaned against the tiled wall, sinking to the floor. “Neo,” he whispered, trying his hardest not to tremble. “Gods, I wish you were here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to kudos and comment, please! If you have any editing/plot suggestions/idea's I would LOVE to hear them. 
> 
> Read ya later!!!


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